


Two Swords and Many Musings

by Oblivian03



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dual swords, Gen, Light Angst, set between season 3 and season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oblivian03/pseuds/Oblivian03
Summary: Leon is charged with training some new recruits and enlists Gwaine’s help to do so. Arthur tags along to watch and engages in conversation with his First Knight about a number of things.
Relationships: Gwaine & Leon (Merlin), Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Two Swords and Many Musings

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimed: I do not own Merlin or any of the related franchise. This is just for fun.

They were training some of the younger knights who had earned their title after Morgana’s defeat.

Leon did not like to think much about Uther’s former ward, a girl who had been so kind and yet, with time, had proved cruller than most other villains he knew. It was easier to focus on the present, on the young faces before him and his duty to them and Camelot. If the sound of women’s screaming and the sight of fresh turned graves haunted his dreams, then that was his alone know. 

“You are all well accustomed to the need to practice your skill with arms,” the First Knight of Camelot called to his men. “This is not the first time I have had you here just shy of dawn. Yet, you may be wondering why another has joined us this fine morn.”

Leon gestured to where Gwaine stood with a sword in each hand. Both weapons were far too long for either to be considered the regular dagger many knights wielded alongside their sword when a shield was not at hand.

The shorter man yawned, rolled his shoulders and winked at Leon with an un-knightly grin. Leon refrained from responding with anything but a nod of his head. Gwaine yawned again and one might have thought him still besotted by sleep. Yet, sharp eyes could tell that, for all he played, Gwaine was one of the less bleary-eyed men on the grounds.

“You will have met Sir Gwaine before and some of you will have patrolled with him. Sir Gwaine is here at my request and at the behest of Prince Arthur for his skill is required for your training today.”

“Aye, how else are you to see what mettle your knights are made of?” Gwaine called to him and the world at large.

Leon ignored his words and the answering jeers from some of the older knights who were also on the training field. Not all had taken kindly to Arthur’s knighting of commoners and several had taken to attempting to prove the new knights were inferior in combat. Lancelot had needed only a day to show his skill with a sword was unrivalled by any save, perhaps, Arthur. The knight who had faced Elyan had the poor misfortune of wielding a poorly made mace and the match had ended swiftly in much embarrassment. The former blacksmith had stood a moment, taking in the other man’s gait and weapon, then stepped forward and knocked the head clean of its handle with a well-aimed blow before advising his opponent to find a better mace with which to fight. Leon had not been present when the men had thought to challenge Percival as such, but he had heard the story later from Gwaine, no doubt embellished by good humour and drink. As strong as the tall knight was, Leon doubted he could crush a metal helmet in his hands. 

If the mocking grated on the three men, they did not let it show, but Gwaine was ever the exception. He did not crack beneath the insults, but he met them in kind, riling his antagonists up until their spars seemed more at home on a battlefield. Anger drove both opponents in such cases, plain and unrefined for one, and held far deeper by the other, and there were times when Leon or Arthur (or, once, Percival) had need to break up a duel.

Still, Gwaine was well worth the trouble he caused for his skill with blades alone.

“As knights of Camelot, you have been trained well to use a sword,” Leon said to the young men who stood before him. “You have been trained as your fathers were trained before you and their fathers before them, as I myself was trained in the techniques that mark Camelot. Each of you would have added your own flair to these techniques, as I did when I grew accustomed to the sword. As time goes on, you will refine your flair as I have. So too have you trained with other weapons, for there is one truth I have never hidden from you. Not all men fight the same and it is wise to learn how to counter any method of fighting you may come across in your lives.”

Resisting the urge to pace, the First Knight of Camelot nodded to his fellow knight who had stood at the Roundtable beside him when hope had been but a distant thing.

“Sir Gwaine has agreed to demonstrate a rarer method to prepare you should you encounter it one day. Do I have a volunteer to try themselves against him?”

One young man stepped forth, a Sir Alder whose father had been crippled during Camelot’s fall. He inclined his head respectfully to Leon and then to Gwaine, before taking his mark opposite the latter man.

Gwaine inclined his head in turn, lips widening their grin. The man twirled his swords and brought them up to waist height, shuffling his feet as he centered himself.

His intentions were clear, and this brought more jeers from the other knights who watched on. Even some of the wisest knights who had moved beyond the blindness of nobility to judge a man by his worth in a fight were shaking their heads at Gwaine. The man grinned at them and saluted one (an action Leon watched with interest, ever eager to foster friendship between Camelot’s nobility and its commoner knights), twirling his swords again before settling into a fighting position that resembled the pincers of a scorpion turned vertical.

Leon gave the command and Alder leapt to the attack. The clash of blunted steel rang out once, twice, three times before it ended in silence and one of Gwaine’s swords at the other’s throat.

“Our victor,” Leon called, indicating his fellow Roundtable knight.

Gwaine clapped Alder on the shoulder, murmuring something that no doubt was encouragement and thanks for a good fight. Whatever it was, the other man fell back into line with his brothers in arms a little more heartened afterwards.

Silence reigned upon the training grounds. The jeers had ceased at the first meeting of swords when it became apparent that though it was a duel where one was set for slaughter, it was not the one everyone had expected it to be.

Leon stepped forward, drawing all attention back to him.

“You may have heard many a more experienced man say attempting to fight with two swords is foolish, and they are right,” Leon said. “It takes a degree of skill to master even the basics of this method and most do not succeed in even that. There is no shame in this, for fighting with one sword and a shield or dagger alongside it will grant you the same ability to defend and attack at once. Most likely, when you meet a soldier who wields two swords, you will find them easy enough to defeat. Yet, there are those whose skill surpasses this, as with Sir Gwaine here. They wield two swords not out of flair, but efficiency or necessity. These are dangerous men. You would be wise to keep your wits about you in such a bout, for it is easy to forget that as one blade blocks your blow another might simultaneously pierce your heart.”

The young knights shifted uneasily, several glancing to where Gwaine stood leaning on his swords.

Leon drew in a breath to continue. “A few of you may find yourselves wishing to learn this method in time, but I would advise you to think well upon the matter before pursuing it. To wield two swords at once requires a swiftness and dexterity of the hands that wielding one sword, or even a sword and shield, does not need. It is difficult for even the best swordsmen to learn, and takes discipline, persistence and a quick mind. The man who fights as such must be courageous too, for they forego the surer protection of a shield and risk being impaled by arrow or javelin for it. Some would argue that only a madman would carry such into battle unless he had no choice.”

His eyes caught Gwaine in his peripheral, who mouthed what could have been ‘flatterer’ at him. Leon fought back a smile, raising his chin a little as though it would help. The First Knight of Camelot turned to Alder and inclined his head towards the younger man. “Sir Alder, what did you learn from your duel?”

“It is harder to parry two swords than one, Sir.”

“And if you were to impart advice to your comrades who will be facing Sir Gwaine next, what would it be?”

“Watch both blades and be prepared to move quickly, for in blocking one strike there is almost no time to block the next.”

“You would recommend a method of defence rather than attack?”

“Yes.”

Leon nodded, allowing a small smile to grace his face. “Sir Alder is right. Defence is likely your best method here while you have one sword and your opponent two. Perhaps the next time will see you bearing shields as well, but for now I want you to each try your luck at besting Sir Gwaine. To provide further incentive, the first to succeed need not rise early tomorrow to join the others in training.”

The knight then gestured to Gwaine who stepped forward, taking over the session with a smile and a fighting stance.

No longer the center of attention, Leon rolled his shoulders and looked around. His eyes caught a head of blonde hair and this gave him pause. Arthur was leaning against a barrel of water, watching with a grin.

“I’ve been eager to try myself against him in such a duel since I saw him wield two swords with ease at that melee years ago,” the Prince said when Leon drew close enough to hear.

The older man smiled and shook his head. “It was not years, my Lord. Barely one, I should think.”

“It feels like it nonetheless.” They were solemn words and hung heavy in the air with the weight of everything that went unspoken.

Leon shifted, unsure what to say. He rubbed his wrists where chains had been and thought of children’s graves.

There was much Morgana had to answer for, and Morgause alongside her.

“Do you have regrets, Leon?”

The question was unexpected, as was the informal form of address. The knight shifted again, running his hand over his mouth. “I think we all do,” he said at last.

Arthur’s laugh was short and bitter. “There is a truth I have not heard in recent times save in the avoiding eyes of all the men who cannot meet the gaze of their King. Or of me,” he added in a softer tone.

Leon looked at him, countenance as solemn and earnest as it ever was. “Do not doubt yourself, my Lord. You have succeeded where the odds were greatly unbalanced by magic so perverse it rebelled against one of the oldest laws of nature.”

Arthur looked away. “How could I have missed Morgana’s anger?” he asked in earnest. “How…”

Words failing, he shook his head.

“Anger can be an insidious thing,” Leon answered in a somber tone. “Each person, as with fighting, approaches anger differently. Sometimes it can be honed into a very dangerous thing.”

“Do you think Morgause sharped her as a weapon to use against us?”

“Something did.” It was a painful thought to think.

“She hates my father.” Arthur returned his gaze to Leon’s, pinning the knight with it as he sought something that neither his eyes nor words revealed.

Leon exhaled, his demeanour as calm as he could make it. “Anger can lead to incongruous views.”

“She was right though. The actions of my- our father were not always good.”

“But yours can be,” Leon replied. “Already you have made changes that have shaken tradition in the name of justice and fairness, and we reap their rewards as we speak.”

The First Knight of Camelot, loyal to his King and more-so to his Prince, nodded to where one of the few known men who could wield two swords with ease duelled. A commoner Gwaine might have been, and brash and rude to all who bore titles of nobility, but he had saved Arthur’s life for nothing more than his own peace of mind. Banished on pain of death, the man had returned and fought with notable skill. He had not shied from Uther’s punishment, and Leon had thought, in his own unspoken council, that a great opportunity had been missed in his King’s ruling.

Camelot would no doubt have fallen even if Gwaine had been cloaked in vibrant red. Perhaps the man would have been killed in the first defence against the undead hordes, or perhaps Arthur would have died before he could return from his quest to save them.

It was a series of ‘what ifs’ and ‘might have beens’, a path Leon knew well though he had never enjoyed travelling it. Gwaine had been banished from Camelot, and Arthur and Merlin had later encountered the vagabond while seeking the cup of life. How events unfolded as a result was unchangeable. He much preferred the present. 

Shouting broke out across from the pair as Gwaine sent one young knight stumbling into his friends. The next who stepped up to fight him lost his sword comically fast, gaping face turning red as Gwaine winked at him and whirled away to meet his next opponent with an unexpected flourish of steel.

Arthur huffed a laugh. Leon dared to smile once more.

“As interesting as it is to watch Gwaine knock about your newest knights, what would your Councillors say of your being here?” he asked.

Arthur grimaced. His father was still recovering, and the persistent nobles of Camelot had taken their clamouring to their Prince. It was a mostly harmless exercise, though Leon knew it was not one Arthur overly cared for. As keen as the Prince was to listen to his people’s concerns, there was only so much complaining about the contentious scenes of the castle tapestries that one could take.

“Nothing,” Arthur answered with an air of satisfaction. “I’ve escaped the Councillors and Merlin besides. There is no one to nag me here.”

“Not at all, my Lord.” Leon shared a smile with his Prince. Arthur’s work had been never-ending since Camelot’s liberation and it was good to see the man’s shoulders relax, becoming slightly less bowed under the strain of the duties he bore.

There came another shout as Gwaine dispatched yet another of his opponents.

“Work together,” Arthur called to the young knights, “Use your numbers and overwhelm him.”

The younger knights startled then rallied together, but it was Gwaine who recovered quicker, switching from a faint look of betrayal to one that beckoned a challenge with grim and gleeful determination. 

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain the odds are fair, my Lord?”

“It’s fair turn about at least. Gwaine decided to lead the others against me during a spar I had with Lancelot several days ago. He told me it was to build my resilience and response to an ambush. I thought I would return the favour.”

“He no doubt would thank you for it.”

A curse stabbed the air as the knight whom they discussed caught three swords that had all descended on him at once. Both Leon and Arthur smirked.

Time passed in silence then, at least between the two men who observed the spar before them. Every now and then this silence would break as they passed a comment between them, noting where one knight was slower than the rest or had made an impressive parry of both Gwaine’s swords. Both raised eyebrows as their friend began to employ his elbows in both defence and attack. At one stage, the knight blocked a sword a mere finger’s length from his from his throat in what should have been an impossible move. Gwaine let out a laugh, though it was cut short as he caught another sword from behind by drawing one of his own across his back to met it.

“He seems to be faring well,” Leon remarked.

Arthur placed his hand beneath his chin, eyeing his most rambunctious knight in an assessing manner. “Yes, he does. It seems that wielding two swords is apt in such a situation.”

Another young knight went stumbling, kicked away by his opponent whose swords were now tangled with another two.

“How long do you think he will last?”

“Long enough.”

Across from them two young knights stood aside having been dealt what was considered a fatal blow by Gwaine’s swords.

“No blow is a killing blow,” Arthur called when he saw. “Keep at it until one of you bests him.”

There was a muffled curse, then a laugh and a clang as swords met swords again. Leon grinned. Gwaine’s good humour was infectious, a balm that chased away the terrible practicality of Arthur’s command for the training of knights both young and weathered.

“There could be worth in hiring a sell-sword who excels at fighting with twin swords if you wish to cultivate this skill of his,” Leon said. “Formal training would make him rather formidable to all miscreants that met him.”

“He is formidable enough already with one blade as it is,” Arthur replied. Still, he pondered the suggestion.

“Such training may help curb his restlessness,” Leon pointed out.

This was a fair argument. Both Camelot’s First Knight and Prince had noticed the former vagabond becoming increasingly relentless in training, a growing wild edge to the way he swung weapons about in a spar. Gwaine also sought to go on more and more patrols as though they might cure an itch he could not otherwise scratch. The man had sworn to serve Arthur (which had led to a complicated mess about tradition, chains of command and wording for he had refused to swear the same to Uther), yet it was possible Gwaine could well regret it. There was a real fear they may yet lose the knight, not to any ambush or bandit, but to the call of a familiar life that allowed far more freedom and wonder.

Leon had suggested sending the man on a longer mission, but Arthur had been reluctant to send one of his best and newest knights away so soon. Camelot was still vulnerable as it recovered and Gwaine had not yet settled into an easy relationship with the kingdom’s other knights.

This training had been a compromise. Aside from wanting to expose his knights to a new method of fighting – and aside from Arthur’s desire to see Gwaine duel with two swords once again – the invitation for Gwaine to join the morning’s session had been in part an attempt to exhaust the knight of his jitteriness.

It seemed to be working somewhat. The man’s blows, while still reminiscent of wildness, had lost their almost desperate edge. There was also less tension in Gwaine’s shoulders and face, his movements looser than they had been in days.

What Leon observed, Arthur observed, and the Prince stroked his chin. “You may be right.”

At that moment, there came a cry and a cheer. One of the young knights had managed to slip beneath Gwaine’s guard and knock him off his feet. A sword pointed at the man’s chest marked the end of the bout. There was a moment’s pause then other knights crowded round where Gwaine was laughing on the ground, accepting the hand his defeater had offered to help him rise.

“If you can think of a name, let me know,” Arthur said as he parted, no longer able to ignore the call of his other duties. “I could have the sell-sword here within a month.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Leon returned, before going to congratulate the victor of the training bout. He clapped Gwaine on the shoulder as he passed the other by. Gwaine returned the gesture with an exhausted wave of his hand and a laugh. Leon found himself smiling once again.

There would be a bright future for Camelot yet.

**Author's Note:**

> From the melee in season 3, it could be inferred that Gwaine has some proficiency with dual wielding full-length swords. I can’t think of a reason why Arthur (or Leon) would pass up an opportunity to use that skill in training. Dual wielding was common (e.g. sword & shield, sword & dagger, shield & spear) in ancient and medieval times, but I believe wielding two swords in combat was less so. Whether fighting with two swords is useful is also a point of contention. Some say it may have been useful in some circumstances (e.g. dueling, possibly when fighting outnumbered), but not in others (e.g. battle where there are a lot of archers). There is some evidence to suggest fighting with two swords did happen historically, but it likely wasn’t common. 
> 
> I decided that, for the purposes of this fic, to have duel wielding full-length swords as an ability that is highly regarded when one has the skill, but those who attempt it are generally looked down upon as the skill is rare to master properly. As such, I would headcanon that Gwaine possesses a great deal of skill but is not quite an outright master (yet). I imagine he typically wields one sword (or whatever else he can get his hands on) as it is easier to do so, though might switch to two if he picks another up during the fight and maybe when outnumbered. One could assume Gwaine learnt the skill somewhere during his travels. 
> 
> On that note, in light of my headcanons and the skill Gwaine demonstrated in the melee, one could argue Uther’s banishment of such a rarely skilled (and unaligned) warrior was not the most strategic of choices. Especially given Gwaine’s apparent respect for Arthur, and strange alliance with him, despite his professed dislike for nobility. Ah well…
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this.


End file.
